It should have been me
by MonumentForTheDead
Summary: Sometimes, a shrine should never be visited, and the memories kept inside, should be forgotten...


**Another Cinderella story! I'm back! hahaha**

**I just can't help myself... I love their relationship! **

**Also I'd like to thank Halewyn's Lady for sending me an awesome story about Cinderella and her stepmother, it really inspired me in writing the end, since I was pretty stuck with this story.**

**Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy it!**

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It was on those days that you just feel like doing something you mustn't do.

I had already cleaned every inch of the house when I passed by the library. I always liked that place… It was huge, filled with books of every sort. From fantasy stories to history books… My father used to spend a lot of time in there, and when my mother passed away, he would spend the most part of the day in the library, sitting in one of the big armchairs, reading a book, or simply looking at the gardens from the window. Although I felt compelled to talk to him, I always knew that he would prefer to stay alone. Therefore, in the course of my nineteen years spent on that house, the library was the room that I had less visited; which made it so special to me. That room always looked like some kind of sacred place, a shrine of some sort, and I learned by myself that I had to keep a respectful distance from it, which I did, until that day…

It should be the end of the afternoon, for the sun was already setting itself behind the hills, bathing the room in orange and yellow intense light. I was still carrying my broom when I walked absentmindedly in front of the room; the door was half-opened and the light coming from the window escaped a little from the door… I felt strangely compelled to walk in; even knowing it could be something that I shouldn't be doing… I knew it was a ridiculous feeling; after all, I could go wherever I wanted in that house, even after being submitted to a simple maid… I still lived there, and that was still my house… With that tough in mind, I walked in.

It could be just my imagination, after all the years of thinking about that room as a holy place, but when I pushed the door to enter, the sunlight hit me entirely, making me blind for some seconds. After I recovered my sight, all that I saw had some kind of sacred halo… From the armchairs to the tall shelves full of books; everything seemed to be part of a temple. In addition, everything seemed silent; not even the birds were singing, as sigh of reverence. I took a deep breath, astonished by that vision. My eyes got full of tears, as the books in the shelves seemed to call for me, asking to be opened, asking to be touched after so many years of absence.

I walked forward, forgetting my broom in any corner of the room. I reached the closer shelf and grabbed a random book, which seemed to be filled with a strong energy; so strong that my first tough was retrieving it back, but I controlled myself and waited until I got used by that energy… I opened the book but I couldn't read the first words of the page. I discovered then, that I would never get used to that force.

It was my father, I knew it… His grieve and sorrow of loosing his wife got impregnated on that room and on the books, and that feeling would never change… Even when he was long gone, the sadness still lingered in that room. I don't really remember my mother, and I never really missed her, but in that place, I could distinctly feel my father's pain, and it was slowly becoming mine as well. My heart seemed to be squeezed by an imaginary hand while I squeezed the old book against my hands. Unconsciously, my tears dropped on the pages, stifled by my sobs. The sunlight that was warming my body before seemed to be gone, although the room was still lighted intensely. I felt shivers, and partially was because I had felt she had entered in the room. My instincts telling me that those cold green eyes were on me, judging every bit of myself like only them could do.

My stepmother.

Somehow, she always managed to catch me in the most inopportune moments of my life. Of course, being almost her private maid, I shouldn't have inopportune moments, but she didn't seem to care at all. In fact, I strongly believe she likes when I'm sad or worried in her presence… She already showed me plenty of times she likes to play with my feelings, whether if they are towards her, or anything else. I think she believes I'm some kind of property, and she should know about everything… From how I dress to my manners and thoughts.

"_It's beautiful in here, isn't it? Especially in this hour of the day"_ I felt her walking slowly towards me, until she reached for the back of my neck. Her cold hand caressed the heated flesh under my hair slightly, but I didn't turn. She didn't even frighten me when she spoke. _"What are you reading, child?"_

I didn't answer, and I knew I would get punished for not doing it so, but the sadness overpowered my body in such a way that I couldn't even speak. She must have noticed that I was crying, for she removed her hand from my neck, and almost gently grabbed my arms to turn me around. I did, unwillingly, for I didn't want her to see my tears, and in a moment, my eyes were met with the crimson fabric of her dress for an instant, before she grabbed my chin and pulled my face upwards. Her eyes met mine, and I couldn't help to feel a little angered. I felt that she shouldn't be there as much as I should. She was invading a sacred space just like I was, but it was different… It felt almost wrong now… She wasn't being respectful as I was.

"_It's nothing, stepmother… I should get back to my chores"_ I tried to turn to leave, but she held me in place, taking her hands from my shoulders and touching mine, in a feathery way.

"_You were crying?"_ She asked coldly. More of a statement than a real question. _"I must assume you miss your father…"_

I looked up again, and I saw her eyes, filled with something strange… A feeling that I never saw her express. Was it some kind of… pain? Either way, I didn't mind, I didn't want her there, that wasn't her place…

"_Yes… I do"_ I tried to look strong in front of her, but a painful tear escaped from my eye, and I couldn't help but look down at my own feet.

"_Oh child…"_ She whispered in a husky voice, cupping my chin and lifting my face. With her free hand she dried my tear, calmly, almost tenderly…

I was already pretty used to the sudden signs of affection she would sometimes present to me; she would even smile sometimes… But in all these occasions, her eyes would remain cold, and I know that behind her smile she sees me as a nothing, a maid, her property… Her slave.

But as she wiped the tear from my face and called me "child" in such an enclosed and hoarse voice, I felt that something was different this time; In her eyes I could see that something had changed, and on that moment, she was seeing me as more than a property, more than a weak little girl… What was going on behind those emerald eyes I couldn't say, but her hand remained on my face; soft, warm, and I somewhat felt better with that touch.

"_Your father was such a good man…"_ She said, scanning the room with a look that seemed to contain a world of memories _"And you look so much like him…"_ She murmured before taking a deep breath.

What happened next seemed like a dream. A dream that I never thought I'd had and it seemed impossible to happen. Lady Tremaine was standing in front of me, holding my face... and crying. It seemed unbelievable, it seemed absurd that the woman who had never showed any signs of weakness – and let's say, emotion – was now crying in front of me, without resisting, for the first time without controlling herself, treating me as an equal, someone that she could speak to, almost like… her daughter? My head was screaming that that was impossible, she would never treat me like her own daughter, but my heart wanted so much to believe that she now trusted me, liked me…

"_Oh, I miss him too" _She suddenly broke contact with me, like realizing she was doing something improper. She turned around and seated in one the cushioned armchairs that filled the room and looked outside the window, to the landscape that was painted in orange and red.

On that moment, a great part of my sadness had gone away to leave place to the bewilderment that was going on; I even rubbed my eyes slightly, to prove myself that I wasn't dreaming. It was the first time that I had seen my stepmother crying, and the uniqueness of it made me do something that I would regret deeply.

I reached for her.

I reached for her and bent down, so we could be at the same level. My arms hooked gently around her shoulders and I hugged her tightly – almost too tight, but I didn't care at the moment – all I wanted to do was to comfort her. Because, despite of everything, I didn't like to see her suffer, and for the first time, we were suffering from the same thing.

I missed a father, she missed a husband.

We kept like that for an instant, until I lost part of my balance and had to kneel down to recover it; I wasn't expecting her to follow me, and we both ended up sat on the floor, her face buried on my shoulder, which was becoming damped due to her tears, while I cried quietly, my hands tugging into the fabric of her dress with such strength, like my life depended on that contact.

The afternoon rolled lazily for what seemed an eternity; we remained silent, the only sounds heard were of our sobs. Although I felt sad in a way I've never felt before, now I had someone to share my sadness. For the first time in so many years, I wasn't alone anymore.

"_I loved him so much… Every time I lay my eyes on you I see him, and it's unbearable…"_ She mumbled against my hair. I just pressed her tighter against me; deep down, I felt proud of being a reflection of my father to her.

"_I loved him too, mother"_

Why did I ever say that? I would never know. I knew very well that a single wrong word with Lady Tremaine could ruin any relationship we were possibly building in that afternoon, and after I said that, I expected her to return with her old manners towards me, after all, it was always like that; any trace of kindness or even affection she had with me had to be disguised, had to be rare, like a daydream.

"_Mother?"_ She raised her head and stared at me, confused at first, but sooner that I liked, her expression turned cold again, just like the afternoon that quickly turned into night. _"Oh, child… You don't even imagine how much I desire, every single day, that fate would have taken you instead of your father…"_ She cupped my face with one hand, while piercing me with her watery eyes.

Her words seemed to get down to my throat until they reached for my heart, which was, by the second time in that afternoon, squeezed painfully. She had just said that I should have died instead of my father… The woman that I craved so much to approve me, to like me, even… Why not? Love me, was now saying that she wanted me dead.

I wanted to scream, as the tears didn't seem enough to express my feelings. Was I so useless? So insignificant that I didn't even deserve a scrap of fondness? Would I really be better if I was dead, and my father alive? Would I even be missed?

Maybe she was right… Maybe it should have been me.

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**So, there you are! **

**I know the end sucks, I know it could be better, but I made myself sad while writing this, so give me a break! **

**I always try to make Lady Tremaine a better person, but I always end up making her a villain... Someday, maybe, I'll be able to make her like poor Cinderella! haha**

**I hope you liked it! Please, review!**

**Thank you!**


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